


Linked

by disdainfreely



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Aromantic Rex, Gen, Implied Boost/Sinker, Implied Jesse/Kix, M/M, Platonic Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:15:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22444693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disdainfreely/pseuds/disdainfreely
Summary: All sentient species have some way of identifying a soulmate. For most, it's a mark on their body of symbol(s) that represent their soulmate(s). It's no different for the clones, no matter what the Kaminoans may think about it.A collection of fics exploring different facets of clones and their soulmates.Tags to be updated with each chapter.
Relationships: CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi, CT-7567 | Rex & Ahsoka Tano, Plo Koon/CC-3636 | Wolffe
Comments: 26
Kudos: 418





	1. Rex & Ahsoka: Finding Each Other

The Kaminoans hadn’t known what to make of the marks that appeared on the first batches of clones. While the clones’s faces were identical, marks appeared on their bodies in bright swirls of color or bold black inks. Some clones had multiple; a few had none. Ranging from from delicate lines behind a clone’s ear to massive designs taking up a clone’s entire back, they were everywhere, each unique except for its match. It was nothing the Kaminoans had ever seen before; it had to be, they reasoned, some kind of defect in the production process. Before the batch could be terminated, however, Jango had stepped in. He’d explained that it was part of being human, irrevocable and as necessary and irremovable as lungs or kidneys. The Kaminoans hadn’t appreciated this variability in their product, but it didn’t seem to affect training scores and anytime they tried to do anything about it, Jango and the other Mandalorian trainers had practically revolted. So, the marks were allowed to exist, albeit with the strict caveat that the Kaminoans would not allow any deviation in behavior during training, regardless of these so-called “soulmates.” 

Some vode found their soulmates during training, found the person with the mark that matched theirs. The trainers rigged it every now and then so squads with soulmates could train together, but there was nothing to be done about soulmates in different batches or soulmates who couldn’t find their matches.

When the vode are called up to the hellhole that is Geonosis, Rex goes and does as he’s told and doesn’t think about the mark tucked under his left vambrace, the jaig eyes nestled between white geometric designs. He doesn’t think about it when he’s assigned to General Skywalker, and he doesn’t think about it when he sees Jesse and Kix realize that their marks match (as if there could ever have been any doubt just watching them). He knows from his mark that someone out there has a matching one, and he’s heard from the trainers and his vode how important the bond is, but he’s honestly not interested. His priority is the Republic and his vode and he doesn’t want that to change.

He still very adamantly doesn’t want that to change when General Skywalker calls him over to introduce him to his new Padawan. Christophsis is a hellscape, and Rex is very focused on that fact when his new Commander turns to face him. Rex instantly recognizes the white markings on her forehead, vibrantly visible against the orange of her skin. They’re distracting enough that he almost misses the bold mark on her side, which he can see because she isn’t wearing armor (and who sends a shiny out here with no armor?). He’d almost believe the white lines there are just like the ones on her face, if not for the jaig eyes splashed onto her skin beneath them like someone took a paint brush to her. An exact match to his. Commander Tano is bright and overeager and reminds Rex painfully of the shiny troopers who get assigned to the 501st don’t last through their first battle.

Ahsoka doesn’t die on Christophsis. She survives Christophsis, and then the next battle, and then the one after that, and forces Rex to acknowledge that she probably isn’t going anywhere anytime soon. Which means he has to deal with the mark on his arm, the one that Ahsoka hasn’t seen but he knows his vode have all seen. It’s a kindness that they don’t say a word. It’s less of a kindness that they keep giving him knowing looks each and every time he talks to her. 

Cody is the one who brings it up first, one night when the 212th and the 501st are sharing a ship and the two of them are cuddled up in Cody’s bunk. With Rex’s head resting on Cody’s bare shoulder and his marked arm draped over his chest, Cody takes hold of Rex’s wrist.

“You told her yet, vod?”

“No, not yet.” Rex lets Cody trace the edges of his mark with a careful finger. “Not sure how to bring it up. She’s still young and shiny, you know?”

“She’s not so shiny anymore,” Cody objects.

“She’s still a Jedi.”

Cody is quiet for a long moment, continuing to trace the jaig eyes on Rex’s arm. “I think she’d still want to know. You two are close now. Doesn’t matter if you don’t want anything from her, she’d probably want to know.”

“Yeah? You told Kenobi yet?” Rex pulls back to look at Cody’s face and immediately regrets it. If he can look Cody in the eye, Cody can look back at him.

“No, not yet.” Cody smiles a little sadly and Rex feels bad. Cody’s always been anxious and reticent about his own feelings. Some part of him internalized all that shit from the command track about selflessness and taking care of other people. Apparently he didn’t quite get that part about taking care of yourself too. He’d never tell Kenobi without prompting, would never want to push something new onto Kenobi’s overfull plate. Rex has known this since Cody first told him he’d seen Kenobi’s mark, a burst of color like a rising sun on the back of his thigh. The fact that Cody had only seen said mark because he’d been trying to stop Kenobi from bleeding out at the time hasn’t helped a damn thing either. Cody hasn’t said anything about his own feelings because he’s too stubborn and selfless and good to open his mouth and it’s not fair for Rex to bring said feelings up like this. It’s even less fair to bring them up while his hand is going down to Cody’s hip, to trace over the identical mark he knows is there.

“Sorry, vod.” Rex reclaims his spot against Cody’s side.

“I brought it up first.” Cody gently scratches the fuzz at the nape of Rex’s neck. “I just...I know you’re not interested in relationships, but when our companies can’t work together, I’d like to know that someone is taking care of you.”

“I know, Codes.” Rex kisses the underside of Cody’s chin with a hum. “I promise I can take care of myself, though.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m worried about.” Cody chuckles and kisses Rex’s hair. “Just think about it.”

“Only if you do too.” Rex closes his eyes and lets himself enjoy being cuddled by a vod who loves him.

Despite himself, despite knowing that the longer he goes without saying anything, the more awkward it will be, Rex finds himself spending more and more time with Ahsoka. She’s coming into her own and opening up to the vode in general and to Rex in particular. She’s still obviously young, but looking at her feels less and less like he’s looking at a cadet thrown onto the battlefield. He still doesn’t know how to tell her that they’re soulmates. How is he supposed to just bring that up? Luckily for Rex, Ahsoka brings it up herself one night, when they’re relaxing in Rex’s quarters watching bolo-ball.

“You ever wonder who your soulmate is?” Ahsoka asks, looking over at Rex from her comfortable sprawl across most of his bunk. She’s even planted her feet in his lap, which he has graciously allowed since she agreed to watch the game with him.

“Not really,” Rex says. It’s not a lie, technically. He doesn’t have to wonder. “Do you?”

Ahsoka shrugs. “I don’t know. It feels like I should care, you know? But it feels like there’s too much going on to deal with having a soulmate. What would I do with a soulmate in the middle of a war? And they’d have to be Mandalorian, right? It’s got the same symbol that’s on your bucket and you said that was a Mando thing.” 

Rex forces himself to relax. She’s just commenting on the resemblance and luckily she’s looking down at her own mark on her side and not at his face, but it feels more and more like lying the longer he doesn’t say anything. He sighs and gently taps her ankle.

“Hey, Commander. There’s something I should tell you.”

“What’s up?” Ahsoka sits up and swings her legs off of Rex’s lap. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. I’ve just been putting off telling you something, and I shouldn’t have.” Rex looks down at his arm, still covered by his blacks. “I’m your soulmate.”

Ahsoka blinks at him. “Wait, what? Seriously?” Rex pushes his sleeve up to his elbow, high enough for Ahsoka to see his mark. She stares at it for a moment, then looks back up at Rex’s face with wide eyes. “Force, I’m so sorry, Rex. I just said all that stuff about not wanting my soulmate and I--”

“Hey, hey. Commander, it’s okay.” Rex is pretty sure this is the first time he’s ever interrupted Ahsoka, but he can’t just let her get more worked up. “Really. All the reasons you gave...are more or less why I never told you. I’ve got my vode and the Republic and I’m pretty fine like this. It’s...all I’ve ever really wanted.”

Ahsoka grins at him. “You almost sound like a Jedi.” She gently shoulders against him. “But I guess that means we’re pretty well matched, huh?”

Rex shoulders her back. “Guess so.” 

“I knew we worked well together.” Ahsoka flops back over again, laughing and throwing her legs back up onto his lap. “I should have guessed too, with the jaig eyes and all. I just didn’t want to assume.”

“I thought you might have guessed,” Rex admits.

“Not yet. Probably eventually. By the way, you just missed your team scoring a goal.” Ahsoka points at the screen and cackles as Rex’s head snaps back around to try and catch the replay.

Honestly, if Rex had to choose a soulmate and what he would do with them?

This is pretty damn good.


	2. CodyWan: Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How Cody finally confesses

Obi-Wan Kenobi is a beautiful man. He’s a beautiful man, and he’s a Jedi, and a great General, and Cody has been uselessly head over heels since the day after he met him. It’s not fair. He’d been trained to serve his General at whatever cost that service required, and he’s willing and able to do that. Now unfortunately he’s reached a situation where he wants to be selfish and have something for himself, and he has no idea what to do with that.

He can’t risk doing anything that would compromise his working relationship with his General. He values that relationship too highly to ever even possibly damage it. Even if he knows that Obi-Wan is his soulmate. He can’t say a word. Even if every single time he looks at his General, he thinks about that bright flash of color that’s hidden under his robe and leggings. He saw it once, and only once, and that situation was not one he ever wants to repeat. Obi-Wan laying on his back on the battlefield, hands trying to staunch the blood flow from a nasty shrapnel wound on his hip. If Cody’s warned him once, he’s warned him a thousand times about letting the vode take the brunt of explosions--they’re armored and he’s not. Of course, he’s never once listened and this time it backfired and he’d nearly died. Only Patch’s quick thinking had saved him. Cody had stayed by his side to offer extra hands and in the process had seen that beautiful design that he knows more clearly than his own name. The bright orange and blue had been coated in blood, but it wasn’t enough to obscure the sigil of the Jedi Order crowned with a rising sun.

He hasn’t said a word about it since. Not to Kenobi, certainly. What would he say? That he and his General are soulmates, and on top of that Cody has feelings for him? Out of the question. 

He can’t fully contain himself, though. He does tell Rex one night, when they’ve been drinking and Cody is feeling more than a little morose. Rex offers condolences and more alcohol, which Cody is happy to accept. Of course, he doesn’t even have to tell Patch before the medic is already giving him sympathetic looks. 

Patch has seen all of them stripped down at various points for exams and treatments. He’s seen them at their worst. He’s seen them moments from death and dragged them back from the brink with his own two hands and a lot of swearing. He also has, like all the brothers, a steel trap memory. All of this to say, Patch saw the General’s soul mark at the same moment that Cody did, and the looks he gives Cody say as much. He’s a good brother. He doesn’t talk about soul marks. He doesn’t say a word. He just offers Cody a hug and a gentle press of their foreheads the first time they see each other alone afterwards.

It’s reassuring, but Cody still can’t say anything to his General. So he just doesn’t. He can’t. Even after Rex tells Commander Tano that he and she are a match, Cody can’t force himself to do the same. Rex doesn’t want a relationship and all the baggage that goes with it. He’s more than happy to exist with Commander Tano exactly as they are. Cody wants so much more than that. Cody wants desperately.

If only he could say something. Anything.

But he can’t. He can only look at his General and want badly enough that he aches. 

He wants to kiss his General, and hold him, and sleep beside him. And he can’t do any of that. 

Until he wakes up in the medbay after a particularly nasty battle. He can hear soft breathing from beside him and turns his head. General Kenobi is asleep in a chair beside his bed. Cody’s leg is throbbing with each breath and beat of his heart and it all comes flashing back to him. Right. Battle gone bad. Cody’s leg trapped under falling rubble. General Kenobi had kept it from crushing him entirely, but that’s where the memory stops. Cody had passed out pretty quickly after that. Something about blinding pain and more or less immediate shock.

He shivers a little. It’s not very warm in the medbay, even with the blanket that’s been draped over him, and it takes a moment for him to realize he’s out of his blacks. Patch must have cut him out of them to deal with his leg. At least the medic was kind enough to leave him his briefs.

“You’re up.” Patch is almost immediately at his bedside. “Congratulations, you are still the proud owner of two whole legs.”

“Thanks to you,” Cody manages to croak. Patch immediately hands him a cup of water. “The battle?”

“Well, we’re alive. Took the Seppie base. Not too many casualties. I’ve kicked most of them back out to their bunks to recover there. It’s only you and a few other cases still here. And the General. He’s been hovering.” 

“Do you have the casualty reports?” Cody asks, trying to sit up. Patch pushes him back down with a huff.

“Look, you only have to know three things right now. One, we won. Two, you’re going to make a full recovery. Three, the General knows. He was there when I cut you out of your blacks.” Patch holds Cody’s gaze. 

Despite the seriousness of Patch’s tone, it takes a long moment for Cody to realize what he’s talking about. His hand instinctively goes to the mark on his hip. It’s covered by his briefs, but not entirely. Certainly enough of it would have been visible while Patch stripped him that his General would have been able to recognize the mark. 

“Shit, he did? You’re sure?”

“Pretty sure. He was steadying your leg.” Patch pats Cody’s shoulder. “He knows. He hasn’t left your side since.” 

Cody winces. “Alright.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I can handle this.”

“You’ll be fine, vod. And your leg is going to heal. I set it and it’s got plenty of bacta in that wrap. Should be on your feet again within a month. Let me know if you need more pain meds. They’ll probably start wearing off soon.” Patch gives Cody a faint smile and presses their foreheads together for one brief moment before he pulls away and leaves Cody to himself.

Cody takes a breath. Then another one. He looks over at his General. General Kenobi is slumped in his chair, chin tucked down against his chest. His hair is falling in his face and Cody swallows the urge to reach out and smooth it back. There’s still dirt smeared across his cheek. He hasn’t even cleaned up from the battle. His General obviously needs the sleep, but Cody can’t let him wake up with any more of a crick in his neck than he’ll already have. He reaches out and gently nudges General Kenobi’s shoulder.

“Wake up.” Cody has to nudge him again when he doesn’t really wake. “General, wake up.” 

General Kenobi startles awake and immediately winces. Cody could have predicted that neck pain he’s feeling and waits politely for his General to gather his wits. It takes a long moment before his General is blinking at him with bright, concerned eyes.

“Cody! You’re awake!” He reaches out and catches Cody’s hand in his own. “Force, I was worried.” 

For half a moment, it’s just like every other time one or the other of them has ended up in the medbay, and Cody can relax. Then, Obi-Wan’s eyes flick down towards his hip and Cody freezes. He pulls his hand back from Obi-Wan and pointedly adjusts the blankets over his hips. Obi-Wan flushes and looks away. Cody sighs. They have to talk about this.

“Alright. I’m stuck in this bed and you aren’t going to leave, so let’s talk.”

Obi-Wan’s brow furrows. “Are you sure? You’re still injured, and you just woke up.”

“So did you. I just woke you up. Let’s talk about this and you can get out of the medbay and go back to sleep.” Cody’s lips quirk in a smile that Obi-Wan reciprocates.

“If you’d like, but if you start getting tired, we’re stopping.” 

Cody reaches out and lets Obi-Wan take his hand again. “Agreed.” He doesn’t even object to Obi-Wan stretching over to fuss his blankets. “Alright. Let’s talk.”

“I didn’t think you’d want to discuss it.” Obi-Wan’s brow furrows and Cody resists the almost overwhelming urge to try and smooth those creases out from between his eyes. “You were there when I was injured. You must have seen my mark, but you didn’t say anything.” 

Cody’s mouth twists in an almost-frown. “I didn’t plan on telling you. I figured you had enough to deal with.”

Obi-Wan looks heartbroken. “Oh, Cody. Cody, I would have made time.”

Cody quirks a brow. “You can’t make time to sleep.” It’s unkind to say, but it’s very true.

Obi-Wan laughs. “Fair point.” He still seems sad, though, and Cody feels bad.

“General, you can’t afford any more distractions, and I am a distraction.”

“Cody, no.” Obi-Wan looks even more distressed. “Cody, you could never be a distraction.” He leans forward to touch Cody’s cheek. 

Cody isn’t sure that this is true. In fact, he’s pretty sure that it isn’t, but Obi-Wan looks so upset and his palm is warm and gentle against Cody’s face. He leans into the touch.

“Cody, if you don’t want to talk about our marks, if you don’t want to acknowledge them, I will respect that.” Obi-Wan looks desperately serious and Cody’s throat tightens on his response. “I would never want to pressure you into anything. I care too much about you to ever want to do that.”

Cody doesn’t even know what to say. What is there to say? How is he supposed to explain the depth of his feelings for Obi-Wan? That he’s thought about saying something almost every time he sees his General and he’s swallowed it down? He settles for squeezing Obi-Wan’s hand tight while he tries to pull together his thoughts. 

“I’m not as comfortable with words as you are,” Cody says slowly. Obi-Wan chuckles.

“Few people are, I find, and you’re more than skilled enough with your words, I promise.” He lifts Cody’s hand to press a kiss to his knuckles. “Say whatever is on your mind.”

“You’re on my mind. All the time.” Cody rasps. It’s not the most eloquent thing he could say, but it is true. “You have been since I saw your mark, and honestly even before that. I didn’t know what to say. We’re in a war and you’re my General, but I know what I feel.”

Obi-Wan kisses the back of his hand again. He looks like he might cry. “Cody...I wish that you could have told me sooner. I...have you been dealing with this alone?”

Cody flushes a little. “Not alone, exactly. I’ve told Rex.” 

“Well, I’m glad for that at least.” Obi-Wan smiles.

“He told me I should tell you.”

“Good man, that Rex.”

Cody has to do his best to stifle an inappropriate giggle and he sees Obi-Wan’s expression brightening.

“So now what?” Cody asks after he’s managed to regain his composure. 

“That’s up to you,” Obi-Wan says, and Cody can feel the heaviness of the sincerity in his voice, “and if you need to think about it, that’s more than fine.”

“I don’t need to think about what I want. I know what I want,” Cody replies without pausing to consider his words. 

“And what is that?” Obi-Wan asks.

Cody blushes. “You.”

He has the distinct pleasure of watching Obi-Wan both blush flamingly red and beam from ear to ear before Obi-Wan leans in to kiss him properly.

One hand goes down to brush over Cody’s hip. 

“I should let you rest,” Obi-Wan murmurs against his lips. “Patch is going to have my head if I don’t.”

Cody wants to object, but Obi-Wan is right. “Patch has been spending too much time with the 501st’s medic. He’s learning bad habits.”

Obi-Wan laughs and brushes a kiss over Cody’s temple. “Sleep.”

“Only if you go take a shower and sleep in your own bed,” Cody insists, “or I”ll set Patch on you.” He softens the order with a careful squeeze of Obi-Wan’s hand. Obi-Wan looks torn. “We can talk after you’ve gotten a real amount of sleep. I promise.” 

“Very well. You’re quite convincing.” Obi-Wan kisses him once more and stands. “Rest well.” 

Cody sighs and lets Obi-Wan fuss the blankets around him. He smiles at the careful hand brushing over the mark on his hip, now hidden, and he wants to hear what Obi-Wan whispers to Patch on his way out, but he’s already mostly asleep.

When he wakes up, he’ll be able to talk to his soulmate.

His soulmate.


	3. Wolffe/Plo: Building Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wolffe and Plo have a slightly rockier start than most of the others.

Wolffe has never kept his mark a secret. How could he? It takes up his entire back. It gave him his name, only cemented by his own behavior.

So when he meets his Jedi General, a General Plo Koon, he doesn’t bother say anything about his mark. There’s nothing worth saying, and it’s all in his file anyway.

He wasn’t expecting his General to bring it up, the first night they’re even on the ship together. Wolffe getting his men settled in, making sure everyone knows their duties on their new ship, when his General comms him to come meet him in his quarters.

Wolffe goes, of course. What else can he do? He doesn’t know what to expect from a Jedi, other than what he’s gathered from stories he’s heard during training. He’s off-shift, so he dresses in his greys and not his armor, and he makes sure his vode are comfortable before he goes.

His General’s room isn’t located too far from the barracks, but it’s far enough that Wolffe has time to wallow in all his doubts and fears. What could he have done to already warrant a one-on-one discussion with his General in private? Perhaps he just wants to discuss strategy? But he wouldn’t do that in his own quarters, surely. He’d use one of the meeting rooms, or the bridge. 

Or perhaps his General has already seen something in Wolffe that he doesn’t like, or in the 104th. Perhaps he wants a new battalion already. 

Wolffe arrives at the door and allows himself one steadying breath before he knocks.

The door opens almost before he’s finished, and Wolffe takes half a step back and reaches for the pistols that aren’t currently on his hips. Dammit, he left those back in his quarters, and everything he can see in the room is floating. 

“Boost, Sinker, come in--” Wolffe says into his comm, “I need a company at the General’s quarters immediately.”

“Ah, Commander Wolffe, no need for that.” His General is suddenly in the doorway, and all the levitating furniture is slowly settling back onto the ground. “My apologies.”

“Belay that order,” Wolffe says into his comm. “Stand down. False alarm.”

“Everything alright, sir?” Boost asks. Wolffe can practically hear his furrowed brow.

“Everything’s fine, Boost. Stand down.”

“Copy that, sir.” That’s Sinker now. “Comm us if you need us.” 

Wolffe lowers his arm, watching his General with wary eyes.

“My apologies, Wolffe. I was meditating. It didn’t occur to me that it might be...alarming. Please, come inside.” General Koon steps back from the doorway and beckons for Wolffe to come in. 

Wolffe does so, though he can’t help but give the now-peacefully-sitting furniture a cautious look. General Koon politely doesn’t comment. Maybe he doesn’t notice. Wolffe is pretty sure that Jedi are supposed to notice everything, but his General has those eye covers and that respirator. Wolffe can’t read his expression or see where he’s looking. 

It’s a little unnerving.

Still, the furniture seems to have stopped moving for now, so Wolffe sits in the indicated chair. The General takes the chair across from him.

“Are the men settling in?” General Koon asks. His voice is deep and reverberates in a way that Wolffe isn’t used to yet. 

“Yes, General. The men know their duties.”

General Koon seems amused. “I’m sure they do, but I was more curious about whether they were comfortable on the ship.” 

“Oh. Yes, sir, they are,” Wolffe says. He’s not sure what exactly that means. A bunk is a bunk, and they don’t have Kaminoans watching them so this is already an improvement. 

“Very good.” 

Wolffe gets the impression that his General is smiling, though he couldn’t say why. 

“Is there anything else you needed from me, sir?” Wolffe asks.

“Yes, as a matter of fact. I wanted to ask you something of a more personal nature, so I apologize if it makes you uncomfortable. I promise I will not be offended if you wish not to answer me.” General Koon steeples his fingers, his longer middle claws clicking very softly. 

“Yes, sir. Understood.” Wolffe doesn’t know where this line of questioning is going, and he doesn’t like it. What kind of personal things could someone need to ask of him? Much less a Jedi.

“Commander, do you have a soul mark?”

Oh. That wasn’t what Wolffe expected.

“Ah...yessir. So do most of the men. I don’t know of anyone in the battalion who doesn’t have at least one. They should all be documented in our files.”

General Koon nods, very solemnly. “They are indeed, which is why I brought it up. I looked at your file when you were assigned to me, and...well, perhaps I should have been initially more direct, but here we are.” He holds up a hand, palm flat towards Wolffe, and Wolffe is about to bristle at the implication to be silent when he was being silent and listening.

Except then he notices the mark on his General’s palm. It’s the same mark he’s seen on his own back, the few times he’s gotten to look in a mirror. Identical. A perfect match.

“Oh.”

“That was my reaction as well.” General Koon definitely sounds amused now. He lowers his hand, steepling his fingers once more.

Wolffe frowns a little and wishes he had his bucket to hide his face. His General is his soulmate? What does that mean? What is he supposed to do with that? What does his General expect from him? Does he expect a relationship? They’ve only just met, and Wolffe doesn’t know what to do with a Jedi. He wasn’t trained for any of this.

“I can feel how hard you’re thinking, Commander,” General Koon rumbles gently. “I apologize for springing this on you, but I thought it would likely come up fairly quickly and I’d hoped discussing it outright would make it simpler.”

“Of course, sir,” Wolffe says automatically. It is the most logical way to go about this.

The most logical way to go about a very illogical process. There’s nothing logical about soulmates. They just are, and Wolffe has no idea how to deal with them. It. Him. His General. He takes a breath.

“Commander, I do not expect anything from you,” General Koon says, like he can read Wolffe’s thoughts. Maybe he can. He is a Jedi. “I wanted to alert you to the situation so you would have the information. What you choose to do with it is entirely up to you. If you would prefer a different posting, I would understand.”

“No, sir,” Wolffe says immediately. “I don’t need a different posting.” He hasn’t known his General for long, but he doesn’t want to be separated from the vode he’s been trained with. He knows deep in his gut that it’ll be easier to swap a CC than a Jedi, especially when the CC is freshly posted. 

Besides, the tiny of part of him that doesn’t always do the most absolutely logical thing is curious about his soulmate. 

“If that changes at any point, or if you want to discuss this further, please don’t hesitate to talk to me,” General Koon says. His voice is rumbling with the utmost seriousness. Wolffe nods.

“Yessir.”

General Koon looks at him for a long moment. “If you have any questions or anything you’d like to tell me, my schedule is clear for the evening.”

“No, sir. I don’t have anything.” Wolffe shakes his head. 

“Then don’t let me keep you from your rest,” General Koon says.

Wolffe can recognize a dismissal when he hears one. He stands and salutes sharply before leaving and returning to the barracks.

“What did the General want?” Sinker asks without preamble as soon as Wolffe closes the barracks door.

Wolffe turns to see that all eyes in the barracks are on him. Of course. They all want to know about their new General.

“He just wanted to talk.”

“What about?” Boost asks.

“Wanted to get to know me.” Wolffe shakes his head. “Jedi stuff. I’m going to bed.”

He can tell they want to ask more questions. It’s not hard to notice. But his vode love him and understand when he’s asking for space, so they let him go. 

The next day, Wolffe expects his General to bring it up, to act differently. Something to indicate that the conversation even occurred. He’s only known his General for a day, but to Wolffe’s eye, he seems just the same. 

The day after that, his General also doesn’t bring it up.

Or the day after that.

Or the week after that.

Is this a Jedi thing? To just be so unaffected?

Should Wolffe bring it up himself?

He doesn’t know what to say. Doesn’t know what to do. He’s too confused and anxious to even consider telling his vode. What would he tell them? That his soulmate is a Jedi? That it’s their General? He knows that not all of his vode are soulmates with other vode. It’s not impossible that his soulmate would be a Jedi.

Why couldn’t he just be as lucky as Boost and Sinker, who found each other as squadmates? He’s watched them in training, sees them move around each other in the barracks. It’s fluid in a way they don’t manage with anyone else, not even the rest of their vode. To think that he could be like that with the General...

It’s enough to make his head spin a little. Or a lot.

General Koon is kinder than he expected. He doesn’t bring up that Wolffe is his soulmate, but he also seems to be going out of his way to be kind to Wolffe and his vode. He listens to them when they talk. He slips them treats. Nothing directly, but Wolffe hears what food his vode get on other ships compared to the desserts that sometimes appear in the 104th mess. 

Is this just how his General is all the time? Is it because Wolffe is his soulmate? Is that why he’s here, treating Wolffe and his men like they matter?

Wolffe doesn’t know how to respond, so he doesn’t. He settles for circling warily, going about his duties and keeping an eye on his General.

His soulmate. 

They’ve just started settling into a comfortable working relationship when it happens.

The Malevolence. 

Wolffe has never before been grateful that his soulmate isn’t a vod in the 104th. But as he watches the shattered remains of their ship and the crumpled forms of his fallen vode float around their escape pod, he’s desperately grateful.

Their General assures them that help is coming. That they matter.

What a joke. 

Clones are expendable. Wolffe knows it. So do Boost and Sinker.

Someone might come for the General, but they would never come for Wolffe and his vode. 

Wolffe finds himself proven right, more or less. Commander Tano and General Skywalker come to find General Koon. Wolffe would be bitter, if he wasn’t too busy holding Boost and Sinker like he’s never going to let them go again.

The 104th is gone.

They’re all dead. 

All, except three.

Wolffe waits until Boost and Sinker are sleeping, curled into each other and pressed as close as humanly possible. He can’t bear the thought of leaving them while they’re awake, and even once they’re sleeping he has to take a long moment to watch them. Boost’s sleep shirt rides up to expose the bright splash of color across his ribs that’s mirrored on Sinker’s left forearm. 

He makes sure they’re tucked under blankets before he slips out of the room.

The Resolute isn’t the ship that Wolffe is used to, but they’re all laid out the same way. Wolffe has had their layout memorized since he was a cadet. He fines his way down to one of the sparring rooms with ease. It’s conveniently empty, so Wolffe can justify slipping in unnoticed. After today, he needs to hit something.

Maybe many somethings.

He’s only just starting to work up a sweat at the bag, his knuckles starting to burn, when he’s startled by a familiar low voice.

“Commander, I hadn’t thought I’d find you apart from your brothers tonight.” 

Wolffe takes a breath and turns, trying to school his expression. “Boost and Sinker are sleeping. I needed to move.”

“I can empathize. I find meditation has been difficult.” General Koon seems as serene as ever. It’s hard to picture him ruffled. “But I was hoping to speak to you.”

“Why?” The words comes out tersely. Wolffe doesn’t have it in him to be anything more. Not tonight.

His General regards him for a long moment. “Can I not simply be concerned for your well-being?”

“I’m fine, sir. I survived.”

He’s surprised when his General seems...sad. “I know that physically you are unharmed, but you lost many brothers today. I would have you know that you are not alone and that you are not grieving for your brothers alone. Their deaths are a tragedy.”

Wolffe’s throat tightens. “Yes. They are.” He feels dampness on his cheeks. “All of them.”

His General reaches out, cupping Wolffe’s face in his clawed hands. “I am sorry, my Wolffe.” 

Somehow, the gentle possessive instead of his rank is enough to tip Wolffe into full tears. He finds himself pulled into his General’s chest, face tucked against his neck and a gentle hand cradling the back of his head. 

His General--and no, it’s impossible to think of him as his General when he’s being held like this--Plo doesn’t speak any more. He doesn’t try to tell Wolffe that everything will be alright. He just holds Wolffe while he cries like he’s a cadet after his first live fire exercise. Wolffe’s tears slow in time, but Plo doesn’t pull back. He’s kind enough to let Wolffe take a few steadying breaths and keep his face hidden until he feels like he can face Plo again and pulls back. 

When he does, Plo doesn’t try to keep a hold on him. He lets his hands fall without protest. Wolffe catches sight of that bright mark on Plo’s palm again.

“You know, I thought you’d bring that up again.” He gestures to Plo’s hand. “When we thought we were going to die.” 

Plo looks down at his own hand. “I said that I didn’t expect anything of you in that regard. I meant that. When you didn’t speak of your mark, I assumed you wished me to avoid the topic as well.”

Wolffe’s throat is tight. “I did. I..don’t know. Sir, I never prepared for a soulmate. Figured I had one out there somewhere, but I never thought it’d be a Jedi. Much less my General. I figured it’d be a vod I didn’t know yet. Even when you told me...I figured I’d deal with it later.” 

It’s hard to breathe.

“But then there almost wasn’t a later, and I didn’t say anything because I was a fucking coward,” Wolffe spits, full of self-loathing and recrimination. 

“You are not a coward, Wolffe.” Plo’s tone is level, but heavy. He means what he says. “You were acting as you saw fit in a situation you were never trained for and never intended to be in and, what’s more, in a situation that is intensely personal and private.” He reaches out and gently cups Wolffe’s face in his hands again. “I see no fault with you. Not in this, of all things.”

Wolffe closes his eyes, blinks back a fresh wave of tears. He doesn’t know what’s getting to him more in this moment--the approval of his General or his soulmate. Perhaps both. 

“I don’t know if I want this,” he manages to respond. “I don’t know what I want. But I didn’t feel right not talking about it.”

“You’re raw right now, my Wolffe. You’ve just suffered a great loss. There is no rush to determine your feelings. Whenever you are ready to talk, I am here.” Plo leans down and gently presses his forehead to Wolffe’s.

Wolffe melts into him, his own hands coming up to rest over Plo’s. “I do want something, but not yet.”

“Later then, my Wolffe. When you are ready.” 

‘Later’ doesn’t turn out to be for quite some time. Plo, again, doesn’t speak of their shared marks as he and Wolffe rebuild the Wolfpack. He doesn’t speak of them as Wolffe repaints his armor grey. He doesn’t speak of them when Wolffe loses his eye. He doesn’t speak of them in all the nights they spend working together on paperwork, or the battles they spend fighting seamlessly side by side. He doesn’t speak of them in the hushed pre-battle moments before he wishes them a good hunt.

So, it’s up to Wolffe to speak of them again, if he wants to.

And he’s come to realize... he wants to.

Wolffe waits for a quiet night in hyperspace where they shouldn’t be disturbed before he goes to Plo’s rooms. Plo is meditating, as expected. Wolffe politely waits for the levitating furniture to settle back on the ground and for Plo to lift his head before he steps fully into the room.

“What is it, my Wolffe?” Plo asks, voice warm as ever. 

“You said we could talk about our marks when I was ready,” Wolffe says. He feels awkward. He’s torn between wishing he’d worn his armor and knowing it would have felt like too much compared to his off-duty soft clothes. 

“I did say that.” Plo gestures for Wolffe to take a seat at the small table they use for paperwork. “I meant it.”

“What do the Jedi say about soulmates?” Wolffe asks.

“It is the will of the Force,” Plo says. He joins Wolffe at the table. “Should such a bond exist between two or more individuals, it is something to be honored and cherished.”

“And what do you say about soulmates?” Wolffe asks, holding Plo’s unblinking gaze.

“I say that you are an honorable and brave man and it is an honor to be so linked with you,” Plo says without hesitation. Wolffe’s heart flops in his chest. 

Plo doesn’t say anything he doesn’t mean. 

“I could say the same.” Wolffe manages a smile. 

He’s never been good with his words, not like some of his vode. Plo always seems to understand anyway. He sees the familiar crinkle around Plo’s eyes that means that he’s smiling in return. Plo offers Wolffe his hand, palm up, mark bared and on his display.

“We have no need to rush into anything, my Wolffe.”

“I don’t think anyone could say that we’re rushing at this point.” Wolffe takes Plo’s hand. “Hell, in all this time, have you even seen my mark?”

“Only the photo in your file,” Plo admits. He gently squeezes Wolffe’s fingers. “That is enough for me, if that is what you want.”

“I didn’t say that,” Wolffe says, fondly exasperated. “I’ll tell you if and when I want to back off.”

“Very well. I would not object to seeing it in person.”

“You would not object to--sir, that’s about the least enthusiastic way you could ask me to take my shirt off.” Wolffe stands anyway, turning to face away from Plo and pull his shirt up over his head and off. He has to take a moment to just stand there, holding the fabric to his chest. He knows that Plo already knows what the mark looks like, already shares it on his own skin, but this is new and a little frightening.

He hears Plo stand and walk up behind him. Gentle fingers trace the outline of the mark across his shoulders and down his sides. Wolffe can visualize it without even having to see it. The grey wolf curled around the red star takes up the vast majority of his back, and Plo is currently running his fingers over the outline of the star, settled right over Wolffe’s spine. The lowest point of the star dips into the small of Wolffe’s back and he shivers at the gentle touch.

He doesn’t know what he’s expecting Plo to say, but there’s simply quiet for a long moment before Plo speaks again.

“Beautiful.” 

“It’s the same mark you have,” Wolffe says. His voice is a little breathier than it should be.

“But it’s all the more striking on you.” Plo’s hands fall away and Wolffe has just enough time to regret the loss before Plo is walking around Wolffe to face him. Those clawed hands come up to delicately cup his face the way they did so long ago. “My Wolffe.”

Wolffe wants to kiss Plo. He wants to kiss him so badly, and only all the more because he can’t. Instead he just melts into the touch of Plo’s forehead to his own.

“Always yours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wolffe/Plo is a soft spot for me. I've been wanting to write them since I started this, and I hope y'all liked it!


End file.
